Puzzle
by Anna Katharyn
Summary: Bianca Uley was just a normal girl. . . Unless you count her obliviousness to the fact her brother was a werewolf. Also, the obliviousness to the fact she was soulmates with another. Jacob/OC
1. A New Chapter

**_I'm an aspiring writer, so therefore it takes me a lot of courage to put up a story that is not superb. This has been an ongoing struggle consisting of whether to leave or post this long-awaited peice of writing._**

**_Nevertheless, here it is. It took me about three months to actually edit, write, and contemplate what to turn this into. I hope you enjoy._**

**_I do not own the Twilight Saga._**

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"Bianca, you don't have to do this," Mom said wearily. She averted her eyes from the road, looking me straight in the eyes instead.

"Honey-" I glared.

"Keep your eyes on the wheel, Mom. I don't want to get into an accident," I said hastily. She looked at me quickly, once again, before puckering her coral pink lips and focusing on the road. I sighed, leaning my head back against the headrest.

The sun wasn't shining in Forks and the clouds were about the most interesting landmark of the gloomy town. It was dull, grey, and covered by dense patches of greenery and forests. It was much different from Spokane, Washington, where I was from. I had a darker tan from the sun there, but I was sure in this town I'd get much paler than a Native American girl should be.

It was a good thing I'd brought sweaters, because I was sure I wouldn't be seeing a lot of sunny days.

I opened my eyes and let myself stare out at the luscious greenery. Plants I could hardly identify peeked up from the moist-looking soil, mingling and mixing with the trees and bushes. I was used to shops and malls in the place of the plants. It was maddening that I couldn't think of any of these plants ever being in Spokane.

"Honey, I'm giving you one last chance. We can turn around. We can-"

"Mom . . ." I warned.

"We're almost to the reservation I'm just making sure you know what you're doing . . ." she trailed off, a vulnerable look in her hazel eyes that I often had in mine.

"No mom. Stop asking me, I know what I'm doing. I _want_ to go." I held onto the door quickly, securing myself until Mom finished her sharp turn into the reservation. She leaned over me and pushed open my door roughly.

"Bye," she mumbled. I grabbed my suitcase from the backseat and sighed.

"Bye," I replied, running a hand through my thick hair. I slammed the door, watching as she drove off quickly with the same pucker of her coral lips she often used to show disapproval. I smiled, ready to face the new life I'd start here with my brother.

I waited until the car had disappeared into the far horizon before walking onto the porch. I hesitated a moment before ringing the intricately designed doorbell. I waited before the wooden door, tapping my foot, a pucker forming on the my lips.

Finally the door opened, revealing an Emily with mussed hair and swollen lips. I didn't want to _imagine _what she and my brother had done.

She smiled, pulling me into a tight hug. I hugged her back just as tight. I had missed Emily from her scars down to her last bit of gourmet cooking.

When we finally pulled apart, I held back the urge to squeal in pure delight. "Where's Sam?"

She smirked, half of the smile pulled down by the three scars on her right side of her face. "Getting his clothes on."

"Why?" I asked curiously. "Oh ugh, I didn't need to know _that_." I groaned.

She hummed appreciatively, seeing my discovery and reaction.

"Emily," called a voice. "Is it Bianca?"

"The one and only," I said before Emily could reply.

"Bianca!" His booming voice shook my frame to the core. He ran to me and swung me in a circle. I giggled, a sound I hadn't made in years.

"I've missed you so much, Sam," I said, burying my face in his neck. "There's so much I've missed, I'm sure. Mom wouldn't let me see you. 'Said it was too 'dangerous' for me to go."

"_Really," _he said, his eyebrows shooting up practically to his hairline. "I'll have to talk to her about that." He and Emily shared a look that I couldn't read. I momentarily wondered if he was a murderer or something that Mom wanted to steer me clear of.

"Yeah, really. I told her that I hadn't been here since I was fourteen. It was _urgent _that I visit." Being about sixteen now, it had been two since I last came to visit Sam. I talked to them periodically and they had stopped to see Mom and I at one point, but nevertheless it had felt like a millennia since my mom and I had moved away to another city.

Emily ushered me in, practically shoving me into a chair and telling me to get comfortable. I grinned- she had always acted like everybody was her children, even if the particular person didn't want to be spoiled. I leaned back into the chair and watched her for a good few minutes; she was bustling around the kitchen, preparing something that looked like a meal for five-hundred lions.

"Are you hungry?" Emily asked. I hadn't noticed that I was hungry until she mentioned it. My stomach almost immediately growled.

I smiled sheepishly at the both of them. The growl had been loud enough for both of them to hear, much to my dismay. It was obvious that they were preparing a dinner for someone or _something_ judging by the heaps of food that were laid out in giant plates of the tables. I didn't want to disturb them and eat some of the food.

"I'm fine," I answered, waving her off. She looked skeptic, but continued on with making her food, knowing that I wouldn't except it no matter how many times she offered a plate to me. I wasn't _that _hungry anyway; there had been food in the car on the way here.

I was only slightly startled when Sam pulled out a chair across from me and rested a hand under his chin. He rested his head on the fist and looked me straight in the eye.

_Gosh Dammit_, I thought, _What did I do, I just got here?_

"Are you staying here or with The Bastard?" He said lowly, using 'The Bastard' as another name to address our father. I shrugged at him. My plan had been to stay with him- he had never treated me bad as far as I could tell. Sam had acted as a father figure most of my life before our mother decided to move away from La Push and my father occasionally visited me- so he was _okay _I guess, but I would still rather stay with Sam.

"I'm staying with you," I replied, frowning. "What's the problem with dad?"

He looked like he was about to snap at me, but Emily stopped her bustling and whispered something too low for me to hear. She then kissed him on the cheek and went on to check on whatever was in the oven. He seemed oddly at peace after her whispering in his ear.

"Not at all." He sat back a little more in his seat. I couldn't tell whether he was angry or okay with it, but guessing by the bastard comment, he wasn't exactly happy. "So why did mom drop you off here? Didn't you want to see The Bastard?"

"For the same reason you call him a bastard," I replied, rolling my eyes at his single-mindedness. He should know by now that Mom _hated _Dad. It was a mutual feeling between all three of them of which I didn't really agree with. Nevertheless, they would never listen to me if I tried to work something out.

He raised an eyebrow and snuck a glance at Emily, who had taken to listening in on our conversation while she finished up cooking. "So am I being expected to drop you off?"

I shook my head. He didn't need to drive me anywhere; I was perfectly capable of getting there by myself. "No, I can walk."

He and Emily both looked at me as skeptically as they had when I refused food.

"Really, it's only a bit away from here and I wont be going for quite a while," I added quickly.

"Good," Emily said quickly. Thank god for Emily. She had always known how I felt, even if I didn't tell her.

I smiled at them reassuringly. "I'll get going and set up my space if you'd like- I don't mean to intrude. Besides, I need to get settled quickly."

"You're not intruding at all!" She exclaimed, her motherly side coming out again.

I got up and grabbed my suitcase. "I'll visit him tomorrow, okay?"

"That works," Sam said. I nodded even though I probably wasn't going to _need _to go any time other than for visits.

As I went to open the door, he said something that made me turn back around and close it. "Did Mom fail to mention that he is an alcoholic?"

My breath hitched. "Yes," I squeaked as I turned around to meet his eyes. Alcoholism was something that I had seen often in my town- which was I wanted to _leave _Spokane. I made the decision to come here so I could get away from all the drama back home, but yet there alcoholism was, taunting me in the form of my father. I hadn't ever associated alcohol with good people and I wasn't going to start now.

I made a split second decision. "Can I not go?"

"That's what I was looking for. _That's _why I call him a bastard, Bi."

"I'll take you to your room," Emily said, a touch of relief in her voice. I hesitated and stared at Sam before following her down the hall.

"I'll call him and let him know that you won't be," he paused. "_showing up._"

Emily must have sensed my discomfort, because the second she got me into the room, she started to talk about me making myself at home. I pretended to listen, but was really contemplating whether to stay long. I _was _a burden, no matter how much they wanted to deny it. I was showing up and suddenly they had a guest at their house. I didn't want Sam to have to cut work to make sure I was taken care of. He was my older brother and clearly had a life of his own.

When I walked in, his girlfriend and him had just finished doing _things _I didn't particularly want to know about. Just me walking in on that made me shiver. If I'm at their house, I would be seeing a _lot _more of their personal life than I wanted to see. I sighed to myself; this was going to be a long stay.

"Bianca? Are you listening?" Emily snapped her fingers in front of my face.

"Not particularly," I answered teasingly.

She shook her head, muttering about how Sam and I both had no attention span whatsoever. I carried my stuff into the room and dumped it all on the bed; I would sort it out later. Em also shook her head at this, muttering something about disorganization.

When I started to pull out an outfit to change into from the clothes I had worn the whole _sweaty _car rid, Emily took it as her cue to leave. As she started to leave, I saw her drop two homemade granola bars onto my smoothed-down comforter. This soothed me a lot; it made me feel welcome.

I grabbed one hungrily and munched happily on it as I picked an outfit. I decided on simple jeans and a sweatshirt that bore a quote about how important girls' athleticism was. I pulled on leathery brown ankle boots that I hadn't known I even packed; thank goodness for my forgetful mind. If I hadn't packed these, I probably would have worn flats and sandals in the windy weather.

I grabbed the other granola bar off the bed and ate it as I threw everything into the tiny closet space that had been given to me. I would also have to organize that later; I didn't want to be messing up my brother's house so early in my visit. Goodness knows he would get enough of that farther into the visit.

Still munching on the granola bar, I made my way downstairs. There was a dryness in my throat, and I didn't particularly want to steal anything from the fridge just yet. I looked around the kitchen, and oddly enough, the food was gone. I sighed, took a big breath, and yelled for him.

"Sam!"

It took a moment before he replied.

"Yes, Biance Alison?"

I crossed my arms at his use of my middle name. I had always hated the sound of it paired with the my name; the sounds together had never been something I liked. "Can I raid your fridge?" I could practically see him roll his eyes.

He didn't answer, but it was enough validation for me. I ran to the fridge and pulled out the first things I saw; a cold, delicious can of soda. I popped the top and drained the can as quickly as I could. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had soda.

I was right on the verge of licking the edges of the cans when I heard voices. I dropped the sloppy-looking soda can onto the counter and quickly wiped the edges of my face off with my sleeves. Luckily, the sweater was black, but I could almost hear my mother scolding me for being improper.

On the bright side, it was only Sam walking in, but on another matter, he had _cordially _invited me to come to a bonfire with him and his friends. If I was judging by how big my brother was, I was guessing his Quilete friends would look about the same. Gorgeous (in a brotherly way) and tall.

Sam's little sister, however, was lanky and muscled and looked nothing like a lot of the reservation girls. From what I had seen in my short time on the reservation, most of the girls were petite with long, flowing black hair, dark eyes, and extremely pretty tan skin. I had to have gotten the weird genes; I had slightly lighter skin, medium-length brown hair, freckles, and hazel eyes. I was also taller than I should've been at the tender age of sixteen, my lanky form just a little taller than five-seven.

My personality wasn't that great either, as I had been told. I had always been 'too loud' or 'too energetic', something that had made me insecure for years.

Nevertheless, I accepted his offer.

What was the worst that could happen, anyways?

I rubbed my knuckles together, a nervous habit that I had done since I was a little girl. There was a lot of things to think about. What would my father think about me not coming to stay with them? Would Sam's friends even like me? Could I get _any _friends here besides Emily and my brother?

I didn't stop until my knuckles started to sting; they were red and raw. I hadn't noticed that I had done it for so long.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, so I stuffed my raw hands into my pockets and looked up at the door.

"You ready?" Sam asked.

I shifted uncomfortably. "I'm always ready, you know I get nervous before meeting infarmiliar people."

He rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long evening.

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_**I'm very excited about this story. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!**_


	2. Fire

I was happy to be with my brother and with Emily, but the homesickness had started to overtake me a few hours after I got home.

There had always been a nagging feeling that people always manipulated me. I did what everyone wanted me to do. If I refused, I was called strange. Beaten up, even. I had experienced a lot of that treatment in my hometown. I had been struggling to keep up with demands from my "friends".

The pressure had just caught up with me and one day I stopped. I stopped the drugs, the drinking, the clubbing. They hated the fact that I'd stopped listening to them. As if I was expendable, they cast me out. Everyone started ignoring me. Talking about me behind my back, too.

Truthfully, I hadn't even liked them. Nobody liked them, but they still ruled the school.

Yet, I still hung out with them.

"Bi, are you alive back there?" Sam asked sarcastically. I looked from my position staring at the window to stare at the drivers seat.

"Yep, I'm still kicking," I said with a small smile.

I stuck my hand into the bag of chips on my lap, popping two into my mouth. I crunched on them quietly as I waited for us to arrive at our destination.

"Bi, you'll be enrolled in school soon," Emily said. "You're in twelfth grade, right?"

I nodded my head in between chews and covered my mouth as I spoke, "Yeah."

"Okay," she replied. I crumpled the empty bag in my hands and stuffed it into my coat pocket. The crunching sound bothered me, so i quickly zipped up my pocket and left it there.

I already knew we had arrived when I heard the quiet sound of waves crashing against the cliffs. The sound was comforting and distantly familiar. Though I had not been here in years, it felt like home. I spent a great deal of time at the beach when I lived in La Push as a kid.

I unbuckled my seat belt and slid carefully out of the door that Sam had opened for me. My legs felt like numb even though it was a very short ride. They were long, and had been cramped behind Sam's seat that had been accomodated for his long legs.

"Sam, you are immortal," he looked at me like I was crazy. So did Emily. "My legs are _aching _and yours are longer than mine."

I wanted to ask why he had become so on edge at my words, but kept my mouth shut. It was something I had grown used to, thinking but never telling. I went along with whatever was thrown at me.

The first thing I notices when I looked at my surroundings was the men running around, playing soccer and fooling around on the beach. I squinted my eyes as I walked next to Sam, trying to get a better look at them. Then I noticed something.

They were all _my age. _And they were all _huge._

My brother was huge. It wasn't like I hadn't seen a tall guy before, but about ten of them were just there, intimidating as all hell. I had never really liked tall guys; they made me feel like I was tinier than I actually was. Swamped, even.

I put my head down just enough to fumble in my pockets for a piece of gum. My hand barely brushed the cigarette packet next to the gum, but I still pulled my hand out as fast as I could. I barely noticed that I hadn't gotten the gum I was after.

The first thing Sam did when we got to the sand was greet everyone. There was no reason that I should have been following Emily and "helping" her cook by "taste testing", but I felt so out of place that I wanted to stay by her. It was hard enough being swamped by a brood of gigantic men. I didn't particularly want to seem awkward in front of anyone.

A girl I did not recognize was flipping about fifty burgers on a grill, which was making me drool. She smiled at me and my mind registered something. We only had about sixteen people in total here . . . so fifty burgers . . .

"Emily, are we going to need that many hamburgers?" I asked curiously.

She nodded. "The boys eat a lot."

If only I had known what she meant by a lot.

The second we were called for dinner the boys rushed towards the food. I was suddenly trapped in a swarm of sweaty, bronze chests. I felt swamped in the huddle of huge bodies. They made me feel as if I was only five foot tall.

Suddenly, I had been grabbed and placed on the outside of the sweaty circle. I looked gratefully at my brother who had piled his multiple plates high with food. He handed me one with two burgers on it. My stomach shrunk at the thought of two giant burgers.

He smiled mid-bite, chewed, and swallowed. "It's all good if I introduce you, right?"

I nodded at him, taking a bite of my own burger. He took my arm and led me over to a log that was sat in the sand and pulled me down. I grinned at him.

"I hope you know I'm probably not going to eat all of this," I said, still grinning.

He shrugged. "Whatever you don't eat, I'll take."

I shuddered. How did his stomach take in all that food without making him sick?

I nodded at him slowly but surely.

Sam didn't bother with formal introductions, of which I was glad. The men were all eating like pigs, I noticed, and most likely were not in the mood for formalities in the middle of their meal.

"Guys, this is Bianca, my little sister." I tucked myself a little farther into my sweatshirt. "Bianca, these are my friends. Jacob, Embry, Paul, Rachel, Leah," Leah glaRed. "Brady, Colin, Jared, Kim, Quil, and Seth. In that exact order."

I squinted my eyes and pointed to each of them. "Jacob, Embry, Paul, Rachel, Leah, Brady, Colin, Jared, Kim, Quil, and Seth." Each nodded. I was impressed with myself for remembering the names. The challenge would be remembering them longterm.

I noticed each personality as I went along. Most were happy, except for two, which I took immediate interest to. Leah and Jacob had the sourest expressions on their faces. They looked as if someone forced them to come to the bonfire.

"I didn't know Sam had such a hot little sister," One of the boys marveled. Sam glared and I heard a sound of warning in his throat. The kid laughed, clearly trying to irritate him. I could not remember his name even though I had just repeated them. He was the one sitting next to Brady.

I got up suddenly, a putrid feeling overtaking my body. I felt dirty when he called me attractive. It had never happened before and i was confused as I fumbled for something in my pocket. Cigarettes.

I barely looked enough to the side to see Em's confused face at my reaction.

"I'm going to . . . um, go smoke quickly," I whispered to Sam.

"You don't smoke," he said incredulously.

"I have been for quite a while," I answered him, grabbing the pack out of my pocket and lighting my cigarette as I walked to the far end of the beach. I let the smoke calm me. It swirled into an intricate white pattern into the air. And I felt as though i was swirling back in time, to some place that I couldn't control myself.

The smallest thing could make me reach for a cigarette. I tried quitting multiple times, but relapsed back into smoking soon enough. It was insidious. It sat meaninglessly in my pocket, but the second I got angry or started to get nervous, one was back in my hand.

I took one more puff before squashing it in the sand with my foot. I didn't need it anymore. It served its purpose.

I let my hand protectively rest on the pack of cigarettes as I walked. I didn't know why, but I felt calmer with my hand over it. It was hardly of use to me at the moment, but yet it was my savior. Something i could rely on to comfort me when nobody else would.

"Sorry."

I looked incredulously at the boy who had spoken before.

"You did nothing wrong. I've just got a bad addiction," I said, shaking my head. Sam was looking at me, clearly glaring at his back. "Sam, stop glaring. I'm fine," I added quickly, glancing at him.

"It's nice to meet you all," I spoke cheerfully. "I'll give you a proper introduction. I'm Bianca Uley, I have an addictive personality and a giant older brother."

I turned and smiled at . . .

I searched my head for a name. Jacob.

I cocked my head curiously at him. He was glaring at me, his face pained. I looked to Sam for some kind of answer or any flicker of recognition. Sam looked lividly past me and at Jacob.

"Jacob?" Sam asked, speaking through his teeth. "I need to talk to you."

Sam got up and grabbed Jacob roughly by the arm. It reminded me of a child who had just gotten in trouble with their parent; angry, and being pulled along.

I wanted to tell shout for Sam to come back, but was aware of gazes on me. I tilted my head so that a sheet of hair came over my face. I was barely aware of two people coming to stand behind me.

"Bi, we're going to go to the house with Kim and Rachel. We can hang out there," she said quietly, tugging out of my seat and along towards the car. I saw Kim and Rachel move to kiss their boyfriends, then jog to catch up with us.

I sat in the back with Kim, while Emily sat in the front with Rachel. Kim was very quiet, but I heard her talk to me once when we were close to Sam's house. She barely mouthed sorry, of which I replied to by looking at her incredulously. Kim had nothing to be sorry for.

A while later, I shook my head. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry," her mouth twisted into a frown. "You guys probably would've had a great night of I wasn't there-"

Rachel turned around in her seat. "I don't mean to offend you, but shut up. If some boys hadn't been such asses, maybe we would've had a good night."

Emily joined in after that statement. "There's just some things those boys get into that they shouldn't. You're alright, Bi. You did nothing wrong."

I laid my head back on the headrest and sighed. "Why was Jacob staring at me like that, then? Why was Sam angry at him?"

"Boy stuff," Emily answered. Kim nodded at me.

"Okay," I said quietly.

There was more to it, I knew it. It wasn't my business exactly, though, and I didn't feel like prying and getting myself into trouble. Whenever someone made my brother take them somewhere, there had to be a reason. I saw it in Sam's eyes. The hate and angry was that had filled them meant there was something more to the situation. Something big.

Emily parked the car in front of the house, and we all walked in. I immediately went for the couch and sat down. The three girls sat behind me. I learned that Rachel was Jacob's sister. Her last name was black and she was fresh out of high-school, graduating just a year before this semester.

I also learned that Kim was an only child and an excellent student. Her last name was Ashford, her dad was famous around here for his writing, and she wanted to be a writer as well. She was currently in my grade, but was thinking about graduating early because of her over achievements. After that, she was staying with Jared on the reservation.

I gave a simple synopsis of my life. I mentioned how I was in my last year of school, came from Spokane, and wasn't fond of school. It was nothing new. I had never been an overachiever, never wanted to graduate early, and never had a reliable boyfriend.

To my surprise, they didn't look disappointed I had nothing interesting about me like people in Spokane would have done. It was unsettling how I had been welcomed. I was just Sam's little sister, and nothing else. These girls had no reason to come talk and hang out with me. They may be friends with Emily, but had never met me before. Yet, they seemed as if we had been friends for years.

Nevertheless, I let it go on and kept talking. At least I was having some kind of fun on my first day. It would be good to make friends early into my stay so I didn't get dumped again.


	3. Bats and Apples

***Edited 10/25/15**

Ever since I was little, I always had a bad habit. It was picking at my nails until they chipped down to a place where I was not able to pick them anymore. Once they were raw and bleeding and I would stick a bandaid on each individual finger and wait for the nail to grow back. Then, in about a month, the process would repeat.

It was a coping mechanism, like cigarettes. It gave me an idea to distract myself with. When my mother, brother, and I left my dad, I did it constantly. It got bad enough to the point my mother taped thin winter gloves over my hands to prevent the ritual habit.

I did not even realize I was doing it until I felt pain shoot up the tip of one of my left-hand fingers. I was alone in my temporary home and I already missed my permanent home. It was a stupid way of coping, but it worked. I wasn't thinking about home after the blood started to run down my finger in a thin, straight line.

Being alone had never been my forte. My mother never left me home alone during the time that Sam started acting up around the house. It was absurd. He sometimes threw things, and when she grounded him after a fit, he would sneak out. In the mornings, he came back hungover. At night, he would often sneak through my window with a finger to his lips, mouthing _don't tell mom._

Apparently, she did not want it to happen to me.

Maybe it was the paranoia that scared me half to death. There were things everywhere, human or inhuman. I wasn't prepared for either, especially if they were harmful.

I got up and walked to the window. My blurry eyesight readjusted after some squinting and I realized that a car was parked in the driveway. The car was a rabbit, a classic car that my grandfather had once owned. It was quite nice, and even though my mind told me not to, I walked out the door to look at the old classic.

I peeked around the corner of the garage to find a sun-kissed torso invading my line of sight. I saw messy black hair that may have been short at some point in time. It was on the fine line between overgrown and normal length hair. I laughed, making a mental note to ask my brother if he wanted me to give him a haircut. "Sam, when did you get home?"

The man turned around and I screeched when I noticed it wasn't Sam. My senses were overtaken with a wave of panic when the man made a grunt of surprise and whipped around. My hands grasped frantically for the bat I knew was leaning on the shed. It was in the pile of baseball gear sitting outside.

My hands found it and suddenly, the bat connected with the muscular torso before my mind made a connection from the back, to the hair, to the man standing before me.

_Jacob._

_Black._

"Oh my fucking god," I said, my eyes widening. "I'm _so _sorry."

"Why would you hit me with a bat?" He asked. He was clearly confused as he rubbed the spot on his abdomen I had bashed. It didn't look like he was in pain, just uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I was practically dripping with embarrassment and remorse.

I shook my head. "You scared me. I'm not used to people just . . . _showing up."_

He rubbed his abdomen once again with the look of a small, self-pitying child. "I wanted to say sorry for last night for staring," he said. "But I must add, you've got one hell of a swing."

I crossed my arms uncomfortably. He was looking at me, but I couldn't bring myself to stare back into those way-too-forgiving eyes. "I was going to go inside and sleep, but you can . . . uh, come inside if you would like. It is only fair after I probably broke your ribs with a bat."

He shrugged my apologies off. "Sure, I could deal with that."

We walked back to the house in silence. I felt a light tingling sensation shooting up and down my dominant hand from hitting him with the bat. It was unpleasant, but completely deserved on my part.

We spent at least three hours watching some generic show about vampires. I hardly even knew the name. Neither did he.

The show was so stereotypical, and we laughed every time they made a stupid reference to the original myth. One of the vampires walked out into sunlight and was reduced to a pile of ashes. Meanwhile, his family of vampires was down in their lair, sleeping happily in their coffins. Jacob made some comment and started chuckling. I laughed, too.

The process repeated, until the show got to be to boring for me.

"Hey Jake?" I asked.

"Yeah?" He turned towards me, breaking his eyes away from the television.

"Why were you so mad at me at the bonfire?"

"You weren't supposed to be there," he answered, his voice stopping in a few places. He obviously did not want to hurt my feelings and was wording it carefully, but it still dealt a sharp blow.

"What?" My voice came out weak, hurt even. It wasn't meant to sound like that. I did not want to let him know that it meant anything to me, but that plan had obviously been thrown out the window.

"If you had just stayed away from here, I could've," he was ranting at this point, dealing blow after blow to my frail psyche. "You ruined my life and you haven't even been here three days! I tried to be civil, I really did, but _you_. . ."

I had no idea what to do. He wasn't making any sense, but at the same time he was making perfect sense. He didn't want me here.

There was a moment where I was silent, listening to his rambling. Then, the tears came. The anger and sadness bubbled up from somewhere inside me. It was a familiar feeling that I could not shake.

"Oh my god, are you crying? I'm sorry just-" He tried to touch me. I flinched away from his grip. I could taste the salty tears on my lips and feel them running down my face.

"Get out," I said.

"What?"

_"GET OUT!" _

I was screaming, pushing him. There was red behind my eyelids as I shoved him towards the door. He was trying to reason with me, but it was all a buzz, lost in the void as my temper boiled. _I _was just trying to be wanted somewhere.

_I thought he was okay, but he is just like everyone else._

He stopped trying to reason with me when I grabbed and chucked a macintosh apple at his back. Finally, he left after five minutes of screaming and me pushing him away from me. The rage died down as I watched him leave the house. I saw his the Rabbit speed out of the driveway and out onto the road. Then, in a flash, it was gone.

And I promptly sat on the couch and cried.


	4. Scars

**I'm going to try to update every weekend or every other weekend from now on!  
****Also, thank you everyone for the kind reviews.  
****I appreciate all of you who even take the time to look at my story, I really do. You all make my week.**

**Goodnight,  
Anna**

* * *

Not even two hours later, my hands were flying over the keyboard of my laptop. I had searched things such as _anger triggers _and _am I crazy?_

_Humor me_, I thought.

I clicked on a seemingly professional website that outlined the basic symptoms and signs of a werewolf. Things such as unusual or excessive temper and excessive strength showed up in the article, but nothing particularly caught my eye. It wasn't as if I was a werewolf, that was just what came up. It was ridiculous. I chuckled at my antics.

My yelling at Jacob had been a mistake. I had not meant to throw things at him and scream, it just kind of _happened. _I was not ready for that burst of strong emotions to hit me all at the same time. It threw me off course, to say the least.

I jumped up to look at the door when it creaked, instinctively pulling the top of my laptop down so the search was private. It was Emily, who held a tray of muffins and smiled warmly at me.

"Afternoon," she said cheerily, setting the tray on the bed. Her gaze wandered down to my laptop and back up to my cross expression. "What's up?"

"I was just searching around," I said, shrugging. She would think I was crazy if she knew the reason my search history was overflowing with psychiatric websites. Especially if she knew what had gone on in the morning between Jacob and I.

"I've never been home alone, actually. It was a bit nerve wracking, so I kept myself occupied."

She pulled up the slanted screen of my laptop so that the page was exposed. I thought she would laugh or look confused by my search, but instead she looked extremely displeased. "Jacob was here, wasn't he?"

I nodded, but looked at her in uncertainty. "What does the webpage have to do with him?"

My face softened and breathing slowed, but my heart still felt like an animal of prey that was running for its life.

"You're searching like a madwoman, you're cross, and his boots are in the doorway. Do I need anymore clues?" she listed, putting down a finger for each detail. "And as for the webpage, it was just a coincidence."

The corners of my mouth lifted, but it was barely enough to be considered a smile. Her eyes flashed with something that was short-lived. Remorse. She was lying and trying to hide it from me. It had happened before with people who lied much better than she did so I knew the signs by now.

A staring match went on between her and I for a couple of minutes, daring the one to spill first. I had a big mouth, so of course I was the one to say something first. "He said something to me and got angry. I started screeching and pushing him."

She snorted and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "It doesn't matter. He's an asshole."

I stared back at her my thoughts running wild for a few seconds before saying, "I saw red Emily. I couldn't stop myself, I threw things at him too. It was petty, but I couldn't control myself." My eyes started to tear up again and I pressed my fingers into them. It stifled it momentarily, but I knew more tears would come later if I was not careful. "I felt like I wasn't in my body— like I couldn't feel who I was anymore. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Hey, it's okay," she said. She moved closer to me and gently put an arm around my shoulder. "Don't cry."

"As you can see, I'm trying not to," I weakly said. "I've just— in the past year had so much _shit _happen in my life and I came here to get away from it. And I'm creating _more._"

"Bi . . . what did he say to you?"

_No._

I shook my head at her question. _No_ wasn't exactly a valid response to her question, but still.

_No._

_"_Bianca Alison Uley, you tell me _right _now."

_You are __**not** my mother. Do not use my full name like I am obligated to tell you._

"I told you, I got mad for nothing. He just said something about it being better if I hadn't come here," I replied with a small smile to put her at ease. It was a fake smile, one I had given so many times before. I had perfected it throughout the years and now it always worked.

She smiled back, but I could see through her act. Her demeanor was displeased and she was looking at me with a wise look, as if she knew everything even though she knew nothing. Emily looked at the world through rose-colored glasses. Everything was perfect to her, my mother always said. She was the perfect girl for Sam, the yin to his yang. I loved that about her, her bubbly personality, the way she walked with confidence, her horrifyingly beautiful battle scar.

I was sure my mother told Sam and Em the things that happened back at home. And sure enough, the subject was changed after a narrowing of eyes on my part.

"Do you want to go get pizza?" She asked tentatively. I had not realized I was hungry until she asked. I had forgotten to eat today, it was a common occurrence for me. My stomach was grumbling in a range of different ways, making me feel a little queasy and nod my head at her.

"Yeah, I could go for some pizza. What about your muffins, though?" I replied, getting up from my spot on the bed. I pushed my laptop cover down into it clicked into its socket and the computer shut down, listening to Em as she spoke. She shrugged at me, lifting the tray into her hands.

"They'll get eaten if I leave them out on the counter. The boys drop in whenever they please," she said. "They eat whatever they please, too."

"Oh, okay," I said, shrugging. "Let's go get some pizza."

Emily and I got ourselves set pretty quickly. I threw on a sweatshirt over my pajamas and grabbed a pair of shoes on the way out of the house. We were pretty loud in the car, laughing, shouting, and singing like old friends. We first hit it off when she came to my birthday a few years ago with Sam. I liked her better than Sam's old girlfriend, Leah, who was always sort of a bitch. Emily was the complete opposite. It was funny how we had always gotten along.

Soon enough, we had made ourselves into the pizzeria. It was dimly lit and cozy with an array of windows lining the walls that served no purpose. It was always dreary and green in this place. I didn't think anybody wanted to see more green and grey scenery. Somehow, despite the obvious lack of sunlight filtering in through the windows, I made it through the sit.

The waiter came.

"Do you know what you want, or do you want the specials?"

He stared at Emily's scar for an inappropriate amount of time as he spoke, and I could see Emily squirming under his gaze. I glared and mumbled under my breath. I wanted food really bad, and I could not stand to see her uncomfortable anymore. She was beautiful and so was her scar. It was a symbol of strength, survival, endurance and just how fucking amazing of a person she was. She did not deserve to be gawked at like some museum attraction.

"Hello?" I waved a hand across his face. "I know she's beautiful. You can tell her if you want to, don't be shy, asshole."

I am totally, irreversibly, insane.

He looked at me in shock, his pen still poised to write our order. His mouth started to fathom the beginning of a sentence, but abruptly closed shut and gave a dazzling smile. Expectantly, he gestured with his pen towards us as if to say order.

"I want a medium half pineapple and ham pizza—," I said. "Em?"

Her face was twisted into a mask of spite and loveliness, a deadly combination. "—Half of it's going to be mushroom and spinach."

"Spinach? Huh, I always took you for a sausage and tomato type of girl," I joked in attempt to get he rot smile. She smiled, much to my delight, and stared through her rose-colored glasses at the man who had previously silently insulted her. It was not a hard thing for her. Her grudges could always be released and everything forgiven.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at the man. Darrick— I read on his nametag— looked horribly confused. He gave us a quick, weary glance before cleaning up, clearing our table for when the pizza came, and leaving as fast as he could. I laughed loudly and the people from the next table glared at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled guiltily. Emily shoved a hand over her mouth in attempts to stop an oncoming fit of giggling, but she could not hold it in. Her laughs rang out through the pizzeria, shortly after followed by mine. It was a contagious lunch, filled with giggling and a little bit of choking on pizza, but we made it out alright. I ate more than I was used to, downing a record seven slices of pizza, three of them spinach pieces that Emily could not finish. Even after, my hunger was not silenced, but I forced myself to stop eating. It was greedy to eat more than two, my mother used to say. As far back as I could remember, four medium-sized slices always filled me up.

Today, apparently seven could not even do the trick.

"Em," I said before I burped and chugged down another half of a sprite. "What time is it?"

"It is . . ." she pulled a small phone out of her pocket and stared at the lit screen. "Seven thirty-five."

"Where is Sam?"

"He was working the last time I heard from him."

She looked at me expectantly as I prepared another question in my mind to keep the chain of questions continuing. I wondered about the tribal legends and the height of all of Sam's friends (_I sure as hell knew it wasn't a __Quilete thing.) _I wanted to know so much more than that, but I did not want to bring up what I really wanted to know.

_Where was my dad, and why when did he become an alcoholic?_

My mother, despite her mellowness in her old age, would not send me to live with somebody piggish— or potentially dangerous. It perfectly explained why she dropped me off at Sam's house, though. She probably did not want to have to deal with me staggering asshole of a father, bless his soul.

He was never a good father. Mom kicked him out of the house when Sam was twelve and I was seven and never told me why. The question "_why is my daddy never home, and the other __kids' fathers are always home" was_ always nagging me in the back of my head, especially as a kid, but overtime I got over it and just accepted reality as it was. He was my father. I was required to love him, even if he was hardly in my life.

"He's an alcoholic," she shrugged. "Always falling on his face. Sam went to visit him once. He almost killed him."

She said the words nonchalantly, as if my brother almost killing my father was a normal occurrence. I gaped at her in disbelief and worry. Not for him or sam, or even for me, but for her. The voice she used when talking about him was so coldhearted and annoyed, as if he personally did something to her.

"He gets angry when we mention dad," I guessed. Emily touched the scarred side of her face with a tender hand and placed it on the table all in a split second. I noted she did not want me to see what she had been doing with concern. What did any of this have to do with her scar?

"Yeah," she said lowly. Her voice was the quietest I had ever heard it.

"Noted."

Oh, Sam, you messed up somehow, didn't you?

I did not press further, but instead prompted we go home so we could get a good nights sleep. My sleep cycle was off here, since I couldn't sleep the first night. I also took a lot of naps during the day and somehow messed up my sleep hours for the night.

Once we got home, I immediately checked the muffin tray to see if they were gone. Unsurprisingly, they were all gone except a few crumbs scattered around the plate. I bid Emily goodnight after that and tucked myself into a bed that did not feel like my own. I laid my head on an unfamiliar pillow, and pulled unfamiliar covers up to my chin. The events of today raced through my head in endless loops, throwing things, having fits, getting pizza, and heart-to-heart talks with Emily. Once I was here for more than a week, everything would sort itself out.

"Goodnight, Sam!" I yelled, not expecting him to be home from work. It was worth a shot, though.

"Goodnight!" I heard a muffled voice yell back. "Love you!"

_Love you too, Sam. I really do._


	5. Werewolves?

**Sorry I didn't update over the weekend. I had to babysit and then went running errands on Sunday, but here****'s an update today! Hope you enjoy!**

**\- Anna**

**I do not own Twilight.**

* * *

"Be careful, Bianca," Sam said to me earlier that morning. I took heed in his warning; I tended to run into trouble everywhere I went. I did not tell him where I was going that morning, either. I wasn't in the mood to tell him and he didn't ask. There was one face that was prominent in my mind for the past few days; Jacob, who graced my thoughts and left a trail of remorse behind him.

Jacob, who apparently did not like me, was everything in my mind.

I thought I did not like him. It was an easy mistake to make.

The night of the bonfire when he stared at me a small pang of disappointment and ignorance filled me. It was yearning, I realized. It came to me when I woke up during the night drenched in a cold sweat. I had been dreaming about something, but couldn't remember the vivid hallucination. It was something about wolves; I was terrified, running somewhere, and that was almost all that I could recall.

I was yearning for the boy who didn't want me, and for that I was truly psychotic.

That was how I ended up at a small diner in Forks. I must have walked more than a mile to even get into the small town, so it was even more than that to even stumble upon the diner, which was right next to a sports shop I had never heard of. The cafe seemed practically full when I walked in, so I found myself a small booth in the farthest back corner of the room. It was quiet. The low hum of generic chatter soothed my mind in the oddest way possible.

"Hey," I heard someone whisper, startling me. I jumped and turned to face them. My first thought was that it was a waiter coming to take my order, but to my surprise a girl was staring back at me, her brown eyes sparkling. "Are you okay?"

I looked at her in surprise, still in shock from her startling me. "Yes, thank you."

She was the kind of person who would have been popular at my school back home. Her bronze ringlets that fell past her waist with ease and framed her angular jawline and high cheekbones. She puckered her lips. They were formed into perfect dark pink cupid's bow that contrasted with her alabaster skin.

"My name is Nessie," she said. My eyes were met with gleaming, chocolate brown ones. I could hardly speak, someone like this did not belong in this small town and I blinked fast to make sure she was not a figment of my imagination.

"I'm Bianca," I replied. There was something attractive about her demeanor. She made me want to talk to her for hours, but yet she had something slightly intimidating about her that made me want to be careful.

"I can tell you're conflicted, Bianca," she said quietly. "Why?"

Once again, the feeling of attraction opened my mouth and coaxed me to spill all of my secrets.

"A boy has got me conflicted," I answered. "My head is all jumbled from it— like I can't tell my left from my right. I can't think of anything but him."

She looked at me with those sparkling eyes as she spoke and grinned with a dimpled smile, and once again I was ready to answer whatever she asked. "What is his name?" She asked, tucking a coppery ringlet behind her ear as she spoke.

"Jacob," I replied.

She stayed silent for a few painstaking moments while looking at me in shock. Her expressions changed faster than I could track, but I followed one emotion throughout the whole presentation; it was confusion. Her brown eyes were filled with worry and she asked me, "What happened?"

"We fought . . . I threw a few things," I confessed shamefully. "He doesn't like me from what I can gather, but I can't stop worrying what he thinks of me . . . if I hurt him. I regret everything I've done in the past few weeks."

"You're his imprint, aren't you?"

"His _what_?"

"Oh, you don't know yet do you?" she said, her voice a bit annoyed. As if she expected me to know what the hell an _Imprint _was. "You're his soulmate. That is why you can't stop thinking of him. I am assuming he is probably feeling the same right now, you just don't know that."

"What the hell?" I looked at her quizzically. It couldn't be real, she was probably just messing with me. I was seventeen, for goodness sake, I had no "soulmate". I hardly even knew Jacob, merely a couple of weeks was not enough to get to know somebody _that _well.

She smirked at me. "Werewolves, vampires, all that shit. Do you know about that?"

"Sure, I've read a lot of fiction books." My heart was beating fast, my mind racing, confused at the mysterious girl hat was standing before me and telling me stories. "Wait, so how do you know Jacob?"

She waved me off. "We had a fling. Anyway, since you know about the books, you must know they're real."

I scoffed in realization. "Nessie" was either insane or pranking me, much like the popular girls would have done at school. She was the epitome of a mean girl, I could see it in her now. Her once glittering, inviting chocolate covered eyes were filled with a form of malice, jealousy even. That fling she had with Jacob was probably one of the many reasons she was telling me stories to mess with my already damaged psyche.

"Well, Nessie, I don't tend to believe mysterious strangers who are inclined to tell me lies. So no, I do not think they are real."

Her hand was suddenly flying towards my face and I moved to protect myself from the worse, but it never came. There was nothing, and then there were things filling my mind; the pictures were vivid, full of life and vigor. They were brilliant, filled with pictures of giant bronze and shimmery overlaid wolves with glimmering black orbs looking straight at me. A child came into view, her blonde waves bouncing behind her as she skipped merrily; her skirt was a potent orange that glared harshly at me, but was perfectly suited for her alabaster creamy skin. She was delicate, tiny as she danced around, but she noticed I was there. She turned around and looked straight at me, a smile forming on her elegant face. Her startling red eyes stared at me, framed under thick black lashes and she smiled, revealing ivory colored teeth under red-hued lips.

I wanted to walk towards the child. _Where were her parents?_

There was a growl, and suddenly the child was knocked out of the way, flying across the clearing from impact. It was terrible; I watched the creature, the humongous wolf, devour and tear the child limb from limb on the edge of a forest. The sound was of a nail on a chalkboard and I wanted to cover my ears, to scream for help. My attempts were futile and I began to cry, feeling salty tears on my numb cheeks. The wolf emerged and I saw its shimmery, russet coat emerge with a tiny alabaster arm in its mouth. Its tongue was lolled out in a playful manner, as if asking _are you proud of me? _

I swallowed with remorse. There was no trace of anything left in its shining grey eyes but playfulness and loyalty.

I was pulled out of the trance with the feeling of a sticky, wet hand pulling itself from my cheek. Nessie looked at me with a smart expression, her lips pursed in approval. "Do you see now?" She asked, the shine of maliciousness still brightly twinkling in her eyes.

The werewolf ripped the vampire apart, I realized quickly. All of it was like a cliche fiction novel, like the one I had in my suitcase from home. _Moon, _it was called, it was something about a love triangle between two girls and a boy. The one girl was a dark-haired vampire, malicious or rebellious, and the other was a small fairy with fiery red hair and a sweet-as-honey attitude. They were feuding over an inky-haired werewolf named Aaron, or something of that manner.

The werewolves were meant to kill. Nessie showed me in a way I never thought possible; every fibre of my being was on edge. It was not _normal _to be able to do— whatever she did. She was something other than human, I realized. The vampire in the story looked similar to the mysterious girl who stood in front of me, minus the blonde hair and red eyes. It was horrifying, but true.

"You're a vampire," I said, more in question than confrontation. It made sense in a twisted sort of way that the mysterious girl telling me these myths would be the myth itself. She smirked, revealing the shiny ivory teeth, a signature of the little blonde girl I had seen in the vision.

"Bingo," she said cheerily, smirking. "You should get a prize for that. By the way, ask your brother how he's doing. I was wondering what it was like, hiding being a shapeshifter from his little sister all those years. Tell our other mutual friend hello when he gets home as well, they're probably out on pack duty together."

_This bitch is trying to tear me apart inside, isn't she?_

"I'm going to go now, toodles!"

She waved, hopped, skipped, and sped out of the cafe like some twisted version of Mary Poppins before the word "Nessie" was formed by my mouth. Suddenly, I felt alone and vulnerable like a small child. There were things bigger than the mean girls at school, than the jocks on the football field, than life itself. There were immortals, lovely, sparkly eyed, malicious immortals.

I wiped the sticky tears from my numb face. I couldn't think or hear myself scream, but I knew I did, because dining staff came rushing over to see if I was okay. The murmurs of their voices were just hums among the buzzing in my head, but I told them I was fine. They walked away with a few glances back at me to make sure I was okay or maybe because they thought I was potentially crazy. I had no idea which one.

I sat at that cafe for a few more hours, my body tucked as far into one of Sam's sweatshirts that I could hardly see the world outside of the darkness.

"Be careful, Bianca," Sam said to me that morning.

_I took heed in his warning; I tend to run into trouble wherever I go._


	6. You're Not Leaving

**Hey! Important chapter here, just you wait.**

**\- Anna**

**I do not own Twilight.**

* * *

I did not go back to the house that day, but instead settled on checking into a ratty motel for the night. The walls had been dirty; they had what looked like rust stains running out of the crease between the upper wall and ceiling and were far from their original white color. I did not like the feeling of being alone in the dimly lit room, and buzz in my ears was still there. I had gone to sleep fairly early in hopes both of the feelings would stop.

As I woke up to the minimal amount of light shining through the windows, I rubbed my eyes without a worry in mind. It was so early in the morning that I had a neutral, sleepy disposition; that was until the events from yesterday came flooding back, of course.

_Vampires _were beautiful creatures, horrifying but graceful. Their alabaster skin and crimson eyes were satisfying, similar to a drop of red wine on a porcelain plate. The long, wavy blonde hair, that I assumed was only a trait of the child I had seen, was curled and flawless like ropes of gold. Her body was graceful as one would compare a ballerina to, but more everlastingly beautiful.

Werewolves were a whole different story to be told. They were wolves, just brutish, elegant, and terrifying more than any animal I had ever seen. Their glistening coats were a multi-toned painting, adorned with mixes of colors that could only be achieved by the most skillful of artists. The eyes that stared at me playfully had been a whole new shade of black; the color must have been on the opposite side of the color wheel from alabaster. Those eerie black eyes had struck a new fear into my very soul with just an ironically playful stare.

It made me wonder what else was in this terribly messed up world. More accurately, who else did I know that had secrets like this?

I contemplated going to live with my dad quite a few times and then dispelled the idea, just to rethink it again. It was betraying my brother in a way, but in another way, he had betrayed me too. His way of betraying me was much worse than if I went to live my dad, even just temporarily until I found a way to get back to Spokane. Mom had not checked up on me since I had gotten to La Push; I had not gotten so much as a phone call from her. I doubted she would want me home so soon. She was indifferent towards me since everything had happened back then when I lived under _her roof_, something she liked to emphasize whenever she got the chance.

I thought it was smart to call my dad. I trusted him more than anybody I knew in this place at that moment in time, but when he answered, I wanted to cry. It wasn't surprising that he answered with a heavy slur coating his honey-thick voice.

"Who is this?"

"Uh, Daddy, it's Bianca," I started off slowly, "I know I haven't seen you lately and all and I was supposed to come stay with you when I first got here, but I really need somewhere to crash for a couple of days until I can get ahold of someone to take me back home. I'm having problems where I'm staying right now."

"Go stay with your brother," he said. I heard no hint of concern in his voice, just annoyance. He didn't get that Sam was the problem, _he _was who I did not want to go back to. There was a shock of terror that I felt deep within my soul; it made my stomach hurt. I would have to go back and face everyone if my dad would not take me in.

"Daddy, I can't stay with Sam. He did something to me," I said quickly. I felt my heart beating in my chest like a terrified animal of prey. My hand grazed over my extremely short nail unconsciously and I realized I had already picked them down to the nub. I quickly made sure my hands were busy so I did not rub my knuckles again. They had healed quite recently and I was not in the mood to reopen them.

He took a long time to respond to my plea. I assumed he was thinking, but he could have hung up. I wearily said, "Daddy?"

"You can't come stay with me. I hardly fucking know you." _Heartbreak._

_"But I'm your—" Click._

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

I closed my phone in shock and and looked down. My phone beeped again. A little part of me hoped it was my dad again, calling to say he was joking. It was Sam. He had already called me forty-five times exactly and each time I declined him. I wanted to answer and simply call him a liar, but I had nowhere enough courage to do anything like that, so I declined him again for the forty-sixth time.

"I could take a bus," I mused sadly to myself. "It's fine, Dad."

But it wasn't fine and I knew it. I prided myself in not crying this time as I counted up my money in an eerily silent kind of way. There was nothing to say or do at this point but find enough for a bus home and maybe stay with someone at home. I would not stay with my mother, but maybe with someone who liked me back in Spokane. If there was anyone like that at this point in the year, I would be surprised.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

Sam, four times in a row. There was a pang of remorse in my heart that stopped me in my tracks. I flipped open my phone after it had stopped ringing and scrolled through my missed calls; there were multiple numbers I did not know, a couple from Emily, and some from Kim and Rachel.

I left the motel at the earliest checkout time they provided. I decided that I would have to pack up and take my belongings from the house; I had more money there. It would be practically impossible to get out of this town with only the thirty dollars I had in my pocket. Thirty dollars would only take me from here to the reservation; it was not a lot of money transportation-wise.

I checked the time on my watch compared to the bus schedule I found on my phone. It was twelve o'five. The bus came at ten after twelve, so I did not have much time to burn. I curled up on the bench in front of the bus stop and smiled to myself when a strip of my skin was exposed. It was sheet white with contrasting freckles adorning it. I must have been getting sick or stressing myself out too much. I was never this pale, my skin was typically comparable to warm butterscotch color. It was now a cream color; I hardly looked like I had native blood in me at all.

"Oye, Miss!"

The bus driver was calling me, his milky hand waving me near him. I gave him a thankful stare and handed him a ten-dollar bill as I got onto the bus.

"This is the bus that drops off near the La Push Reservation?" I asked tentatively.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. It'll be about five minutes. Sit tight."

I rode and left fairly quickly, then walked the rest of the way to my brothers house. The door was ajar, so I walked right in. Sam had a tendency to forget to close doors; he had done the same thing when we were younger. That was how Mom always knew when he snuck out, and how he always got caught for it.

I made my way into the house calmly. My plan was to simply grab my stuff and go, but sometimes things don't work out in our favor.

_Everyone _was there. And by everyone, I meant every single one of the people I had met this far and even some I did not know. The house was packed to the brim with people and _others. _I spotted a few police officers scattered among the house, but nobody was looking at me.

I assumed everyone was looking _for _me, though. For that exact reason, I snuck around the walls edges and was almost to my room when someone grabbed me. I saw copper skin and bronze hair, but the figure was smaller than my brother. It was Jacob, the boy I had been stressing over for the past few days, and there were two others behind him.

"Let me go," I hissed lowly. "I'm getting my stuff."

"Are you_ stupid_? Sam and I have been going out of our minds trying to locate you," he hissed back, but angrier than I was.

I put my finger to my lips, signaling him to be quieter.

"I'm leaving."

I attempted to pass by him, but he grabbed me in a flash. "No, you're not," he hissed into my ear, pulling me into the crowd. I yanked my arm weakly, but his grip was too tight; my arm popped from the force of my pull against his strong grip.

"You're a werewolf, I know it," I accused. I felt his hand clench and stiffen on my arm, which confirmed it all the more for me.

"You're on drugs," he accused in retaliation.

_He_ was trying to play it off like I was crazy as _he _dragged me by my arm with a crazed look on_ his _face. It was maddening how he treated me, but it was even more when he took me right to the front of the house where I saw Sam standing. I struggled in his grasp, turning away, but he trapped me in front of his body. In that moment, I realized I _loathed _Jacob Black with all of my heart. I was not his slave, his girlfriend, or his _soulmate_; I was Bianca, who was a seventeen year old girl being manhandled by a giant man-boy-werewolf thing.

Sam looked shocked to see me and was suddenly in my face. "Where were you?"

"Uh . . ." I stuttered stupidly.

"She's on drugs," Jacob cut in. I twisted around to stare at him in disbelief. _What the hell did he think he was doing?_

"_No I__'m not!" _I turned back to Sam, a hint of what I felt was pleading in my eyes. He looked at me in the same way I had looked at Jacob, disbelieving. He really had lost all faith in me, I realized. He was just as stupid as I thought, first he lied to me, then he didn't believe that I was perfectly fine. I would not believe Jacob Black for ten million dollars if I were given the chance.

He shook his head at me and Jacob had put on the most disappointed look he could muster. _Liar_.

"We found her!" Sam called into the crowd of people. They looked like they could not have cared less and shuffled out slowly. "Could you take her to her room for me, please?"

Jacob did as asked, but thankfully loosened his grip on my arm this time. I glared at him most of the time as we silently walked down the hall. That was, right up until we were right in front of my door. He paused when we were there and grabbed my face in both his hands.

"You're staying, right?"

The feeling of his hands were not unpleasant, but more like a soft mitten of coppery skin against my face. There was a confusing feeling in my heart. I _loathed _him, or at least I was supposed to, but my heart was beating fast in an excited way. I had never felt that way before, as if my heart was going to jump out of my chest and stare at me with a dimpled, excited smile. It was a _welcome _feeling.

"I wouldn't like to, but you've got Sam on my case now. Jacob, I wanted to get out, it's not normal—"

And before I could finish my sentence, his lips were on mine. I was still in shock, but moved with him in a way I had never done before. His lips were warm like a hot coffee on a cold day and tasted like butterscotch candy. It made my body instinctively move nearer to him. I could feel my pulse in my throat and everywhere his hands touched, the small of my back, my neck, _my face. _

And for the first time in my life, there I felt as though I had something I lived for. _Someone _I lived for.

And that someone was none other than Jacob Black.


	7. Aggression

**A big thank you to kiwiflea for her review on last chapter. I really appreciate it.  
****This is kind of a filler chapter before some big stuff happens to hold everyone off and replace the last A/N with.**

**Do not refrain from leaving me constructive criticism! **

**I do not own Twilight.**

* * *

It must have gotten really irritating, all the questions I was asking. I was still skeptical of the mythical creatures story, but my mind was starting to comprehend and accept it. By default, that also meant that I had asked questions about everything for the last two weeks. It was a thirst for knowledge that fueled me, but everyone else seemed completely done with my mindless questions.

"Wait, does imprinting mean I'm your sex slave or something?"

Jacob stared at me with an annoyed expression.

"Because I am not down for that," I added as an afterthought.

Ever since that night a few weeks ago, I had started seeing him different. The anger and aggression towards him had disappeared inside me, and no matter how hard I tried to channel it, it stayed below the surface of my subconscious. His face had somehow also become more alluring; his features were more angular and his eyes were a lovelier shade of brown than I could ever dream of. Something changed that night, whether from the imprint or my pent up feelings, I had no idea. Despite all of that, I was still not down for the sex slave concept.

"No," he answered, a sly look in his eyes. "But it would be nice if you were down with it."

"Fuck off," I heard my brother's deep voice mingle with my higher pitched one. I could see Sam looked defensive from his place in front of the television. He was clearly offended by the title of "sex slave" for his little sister, just about as much as I was. Some of the others were snickering, but their girlfriends were looking offended with an expression much like mine.

"Sorry, too far?"

"Maybe just a teeny bit."

I snorted when Jared threw something at Jacob and all the boys joined in on the fight, but I irritatedly realized I would have to help Emily clean the up mess they made. Sam, much like mister high-and-mighty, sat on the couch and watched the football game. I sighed and begrudgingly called, "Sam! Don't be a hard-ass, join in with them."

He looked at me with a sad expression and I let my eyes bore into him. I was still cross with him. _Three years._

All those times I covered for him and got _my_ ass in trouble, and he had lied to me for three years. I brought drugs home and acted high to let him sneak in through the kitchen window while mom screamed curses and pushed me away from her. There was one time when I even started a small fire in the kitchen, because of which my mother repeatedly hit me and told me I was stupid. He snuck in through the garage that night. It was all based on blind faith that I put into him; he was my brother and blood was most definitely thicker than water.

Sam was my father, my brother, my guardian, and my protector. He always had been with no hesitation if somebody hurt me that he would hurt them twice as hard. As soon as we parted ways, I was nothing, a mere vulnerable little girl with no protection who allied to stay alive.

I was forced to forgive Jacob against my will. The other boys I was still weary of, but no quite afraid of. They were like brothers more than friends; strange, sort of untrustworthy, friends. It was as if they were obligated to protect me and make me laugh, like Sam. Except Sam, he was a liar, unlike Jacob and the other boys, and I wasn't obliged to forgive him at all. It was maddening for him, I could see it in his eyes. _Our eyes._

He knew now how I had felt all of those years. _Guilty, fickle, untruthful._

I was lying to myself all in the same token. My brain said _you__'re fine_, but my heart said _you most definitely are not._

There was no aggression in any part of my body harbored towards Jacob. I resented that, I _loathed _to make my decision about how I felt. That decision had been so brutally taken from me within a few seconds. I would probably never be able to make my decision about who or what I fell in love with because of all these stupid _lies_, this stupid _town, _this _entrapping reservation. _I would be stuck here with an iron shackle around my ankle; never truly being able to leave, but always wanting to just like my mother had been.

_"Bianca, watch out!__"_

The warning was too late. A wet, sticky substance splattered against my left cheek, which had been the cheek facing the boys while I was lost in thought. I grinned and the boys howled with laughter. In their moment of weakness, I took the chance to splatter soup from my bowl _all _over them, coating their coppery skin with red and green flecks from the tomato soup. They looked foolish enough for me to howl with laughter, but I could not ignore the steadfast feeling of anger bubbling in the pits of my stomach. Not from them hitting me, but from all the things that had happened to me in the past year.

My grin slowly faded back into an unreadable face, the way I liked it. What happened to the girl who had once been called too energetic, too loud? The one I continued to be insecure about even though there was no trace of her in my body? I wanted her back, _needed her back. _I wanted to go back to the times where my dad called once every four months and congratulated me on getting honor roll or some other accomplishment and told me he loved me with sincerity in his voice and that girl got _excited. _She waited for his calls eagerly until they started coming every six months, then every year, and eventually stopped for good. Dad— _Joshua_ was right. I hardly knew him, he wasn't my father. I never had a _real _father.

I grabbed a napkin and wiped the soup off my face. Another couple of droplets splattered on my face from across the room and I muttered, "I _hate _this."

"Who's the hard-ass now?" I heard a voice to my right; Sam.

"Still you," I muttered again, turning away when acid rose in my throat.

"You're muttering, I can hardly hear you. Bianca, are you okay? Besides the—" I cut him off with a flat hand in front of his face. He knew partly what was wrong, he just didn't want to admit that he was wrong in what he did. It was rare for Sam to say sorry, even in the most dire situations.

There was a problem I often had where my mouth did not agree with _any _other part of me. It was a medical condition, I was sure of it at this point. It always put me in so many situations it had to be terminal, really, and it definitely made me the least adroit person I knew.

"_You know what__'s wrong. You lied_," I whispered to him above the commotion. It was loud, but I wanted _nobody _to overhear us. _"You put me at risk, hell you put Mom and I at risk. Frankly, I don't want to turn into her, either. Mom got trapped because of Dad, You, and I and she made it out, Sam."_

I felt tears in my eyes and hissed angrily, but quietly. _"But I don't think I will ever be able to."_

He looked saddened at my expression. "Will you ever let this go?"

I looked into his eyes, brown on hazel. I saw sadness, desperation, and remorse swim through them; it was something I hardly saw when looking at my brother. I felt exasperation, because it wasn't as simple as making it up to me and saying the simple word _sorry. _

"I think I will, actually," I crossed my arms, rounding on him. "Eventually."

I heard Sam groan in annoyance to see food had been splattered across his back like red paint on a canvas. I, however, snorted into my hand to hide my laughter and looked away from him. Emily came and bumped my shoulder as Sam started to look pissed off, then stopped. He calmly grabbed some food from a plate, flung it at Colin's terrified face, and bellowed. He had finally joined in on the camaraderie, laughing like a maniac and throwing food.

_I guess I **am **the hard-ass in this family, aren't I?_

* * *

**I realize this chapter has like twenty different thought processes going on within it.  
****I may edit it if that****'s what you guys want.**

**Review goal for this week is three more comments (get up to seventeen), and don****'t forget I'm doing two updates this week!**

**Toodles,  
Anna**


	8. Binky

**This kind of may be my favorite chapter so far that I****'ve written, and the longest in this story. It is about three thousand words.**

**Please, review! Thank you to **kiwiflea** for her review on last chapter.**

**I do not own Twilight.**

* * *

Jacob tried kissing me a few times after that one experience. I shied away most of the time, not because I did not want to, but because I was afraid of the heavy burden that came with being connected to him. He was something otherworldly, something that I could not wrap my mind around, something I did not want to submit to. If I had to form a relationshipwith him, it would be on my own terms. It was not going to be because of some mystical force that I created some sort of relationship between us; my terms were better suited for _me _than anything.

I did not know him, nor had I wanted to a mere few weeks ago. He was rude, narcissistic, and restive, but yet he managed to be _sweet _to me in the oddest of ways. It was maddening, just like this city and the many secrets hidden within it.

"You're starting school in a bit, you know. We wanted to wait until the semester finished up, since you'd already completed most of your studies in your old school," Sam said, startling me as he put a large hand on my shoulder. It was a bad habit of mine to blank out for a bit, lost in my thoughts for more than a few minutes. Apparently nobody had caught on, because when I had a blank stare, people _still _continued to startle me unintentionally.

I sighed. "Yeah, I know, I'm not looking forward to it."

"Why?" He set a gentle hand on my back. I flinched away from it. He removed it, clearly sensing my discomfort; I did not like to be touched by people who lied so constantly to me.

Sure, I was being a bitch, but why should I have to suffer in silence when I was clearly upset?

He looked at me, saddened. It was an expression I had got often from him following our fallout. "Bianca—"

I cut him off in a hurry, not wanting to hear what came next. "I've had some bad experiences with school, that's all."

It was not that I was unconcerned with what he had to say to me, it was that letting him explain himself would break me. I had been manipulated my whole life into forgiving, forgetting, and obeying; I did _not _intend on reverting back to that part of my life. He would have to deal with the pain for a bit longer, as I had all of those years he never came back after I covered for him for many years before that. I was sheltered, then cast out because of his foolishness and all of those times I was excruciatingly stupid to protect him. He never told me why, but now I knew. I had no reason to protect him, I should have protected myself and made _myself _happy and safe.

"Stop changing the damn subject, Bianca! Talk to me!" I flinched away from his words. He was shaking, towering over me in a looming shadow of blackness. He slammed his hands on the table and I jumped away from him, my heart beating like a dashing jack-rabbit. This was one of the things I had not missed about Sam; his anger. It was explosive and unpredictable like a game of Russian Roulette; you never knew when or if the chamber would click and spare you or shoot and kill you.

"_Stop_, Sam."

He was grabbing my shoulders in a grip that I was sure would leave a bruise that next day. It was pure anger in his eyes that I saw, something that scared me half to death. He clearly was not using his full force on me, so I pushed him away from me with a weak shove. It had felt like he had gripped the hardest he could, but I knew he had not meant to hurt me. He would never hurt me intentionally, or so I hoped.

"You keep ignoring my advances and I'm trying to say _sorry. _I don't think you can see that, since I've tried many times and you just brush me off life its nothing and change the subject to whatever else I happened to bring up before. It is getting sickening that you just think you can go around acting like _you're _the one who is getting hurt when _you _are the one inflicting pain on everybody around you!"'

I glared at him. "Do you _know _what I've been through in the past _three years_? Actually, don't answer that, because you weren't there. You said you would always protect me Sam, and where did that get me. It definitely got me into a lot of trouble, risking _everything _for you when you didn't do the same when I _really _needed it!"

"We shared everything, Sam. I told you everything, but we both kept secrets and now one of ours is out and the other is left to suffer. Do you know why, Sam? Because that night you snuck out to go do _whatever the hell werewolves do_, I left to go to a party so Mom would punish both of us and it would lessen the blow."

He stared at me quizzically, clearly wondering what direction I was going in. It clearly was not a good topic for him and anger showed through his confused demeanor in the scariest of ways. He was shaking again, but this time worse. I was shaking too, I realized, but in a panicky way. My heart was racing and anger was flooding my system and I could not stop it. It felt like an eternity as I paused, trying to catch my breath enough to say the next words that _needed _to leave my mouth since the time it happened.

"I got drugged, but I don't know what happened. One minute, I was drinking something out of a red cup and the next minute I woke up bruises littering my body and I was alone. I walked home that day with a jacket on that covered me up well, you were there with Mom. She yelled at me, you just stared at me, didn't ask if I was okay or anything."

I wasn't crying, I had told myself a long time crying over past events was not worth it.

"The best part is that in Spokane, I got beat up because I tried to say no to people who tried to entrap me into doing something very similar. That is why I came here, as well as the fact I'm now Mom's troubled child."

"Bianca . . ." he tried again.

Anger made its appearance in my mind again. "Is that _all _you can say? I don't want your pity, Sam! I don't want _anyone _to pity me, _especially you._"

"Bianca, I'm genuinely sorry that I didn't do anything to stop it, and that I didn't tell you about this, but I couldn't! You and I know that very well and you _know _that I care about you as more than a brother, but as that of a father. _I _raised you, not Mom, not _Dad _not anyone else and you know perfectly well I never meant to hurt you. I love you, Bianca, more than anything in this world."

"I forgive you," I said.

_Mostly_, I thought sadly.

"I think I'm going to go out," I said quickly, getting up from my chair. I felt pain in my shoulders when I braced them, and quickly pulled a cardigan over them so Sam wouldn't see the bruises I assumed were forming in the shapes of hands. It would make him feel guilty and coddle me. I did not want him to be looming over me more than he already would be after my confession.

"Where?" He asked hesitantly.

If I said I had _no_ idea, he probably wouldn't let me leave. I had to think of somewhere he thought I would be safe for sure, and to my annoyance, I only thought of one. It was the Jacob's house, and I was desperate enough that I would go anywhere. Not that Jacob was bad company, but I just wasn't in the mood to converse with somebody. I liked parks, libraries, beaches, and other places that I could keep to myself in silence and tranquility. Jacob was the opposite after everything happened. He wanted to know everything about me, even the things I hardly knew about myself.

I thought I could truly have something with him with a little more work. It was on our own terms that we got to know each other, and he was really interesting and charming, oddly enough. He really liked me and I was starting to like him surely but slowly. It felt weird to have a relationship like that with someone like Jacob because some odd months ago, surprisingly, I would have never imagined myself being attached to someone in the way I was attached to him.

"I'm going to go see Jacob," I said after a long pause.

"Are you sure? What you just told me was—"

"Once again, I don't want pity, Sam," I cut him and his concerned expression off.

I walked to the door in spite of the tightening feeling in my heart. "I love you."

"I love you too, Binky."

I opened and closed the door, grinning once I was out. He had not called me Binky since I was about ten years old; it felt odd, but strangely satisfying, to be called my old nickname for the first time in many years.

I walked to Jacob's house feeling much happier than before. His house was less than a mile away from mine; it was not at all hard to get there, and I arrived in record time. I checked my watch. It was half past twelve in the afternoon, so I had time to burn until, well, I found something to do. It was boring to stay doing the same old thing for long periods of time; it was possible maybe Jacob wanted to go out. I would have to ask him later.

I rang the doorbell and waited for what felt like an eternity, until I heard the familiar _click _of gears turning in the door. The door opened and a dark and aged looking man was sitting before me in a wheelchair, his eyes narrowed at the sunlight streaming into the dimly lighted house. I realized this was Billy Black, a man I had been remiss in meeting in these few weeks, unsurprisingly. He looked like Jacob, but with a more angular face and much wiser eyes, darker eyes.

"You're the Uley girl, Bianca," he smiled, revealing two rows of pearly white teeth that contrasted with his coppery skin. "My son has been talking about you a lot. I've hardly gotten a moment of conversation from him that he hasn't mentioned your name."

I felt a warm feeling spread across my cheeks and groaned internally at the blush I knew was staining my cheeks red. He was just making a statement, but my stupid emotions had to be screwy and make me feel embarrassed and flattered that Jacob had been talking about me. It was my stupid teenage hormones, my stupid brain, and my stupid mind that made my face turn red in front of someone I was meant to make a proper impression on.

I grinned at him, pretending that my heart wasn't beating fast and my face wasn't turning a _lovely _shade of scarlet. "Yeah, I'm the Uley girl," I said. "You're Billy Black, the tribal elder. I remember my mother used to speak fondly of you."

His eyes sparkled with interest at the mention of my mother. He led me into the house and ushered me to sit in a chair across from his wheelchair. "

"How is Allison?" He asked.

"She's okay. I haven't heard from her in a while, but she's always okay. She prefers being on her own, actually," I answered him vaguely. He did not need to know the specifics of how my mother was because she was perfectly fine, probably celebrating, on her own. She never liked having Sam and I in the house, and had waited eagerly for the moment we would both be out of the house and her sight.

"Mister Black, I was actually looking for Jacob. Is he home?" I added.

He placed a hand on my arm, closing the gap between out two chairs. "Please, call me Billy," he said. "And yes, he's sleeping. He was out late last night, but he's been asleep at least since twelve in the morning, so it's probably best for him to be woken."

"Okay," I said reluctantly, not sure if I should go in there and wake him. It would have been a job better suited for Billy. "May I ask where his room is?"

"Down the hall, first room on your right."

I followed his directions and found his room. It had a yellow _do not enter _sign plastered in the middle on it, and childishly, I pushed open the door to disobey the sign. I felt ridiculous, but laughed at the simplicity and stupidity of what I had just done. I felt four again, like I was secretly and deliberately feeding the horses at the petting zoo just for the sake of disobeying the giant, red-lettered sign that stated _Do Not Feed the Animals._

He was sleeping, I already knew that, but I felt my heart stop when I saw _how _he was sleeping. He was sprawled out so that all four of his limbs touched each post of the bed, his muscular bronzed legs leading up to-

He had no pats on, just a pair of grey briefs, but _oh my goodness._ My brain and heart were in tune with each other, both beating roughly two-million miles an hour along with another tightening sensation in my stomach that I couldn't find the word for. I felt something odd for those few seconds, but then shook it off quickly. If Billy walked in and saw me ogling his son in boxers, what would he say?

"Jacob," I said forcefully. "Wake up."

I walked over to his bed, trying to keep my eyes off of his practical nakedness. "Wake up, asshole."

He had grumbled something, and my eyes widened in alarm as I was suddenly pulled into the bed with him, trapped between his two interlocked arms and his hot body. It wasn't attractive hot, but steaming, like my brother's skin often was when I touched him. It was comfortable, like when my brother used to come in my room and hold me until I went to sleep during thunderstorms. I considered staying in his arms in a momentary lack of judgement, but I realized my stupidity. I squeaked, but Jacob did not move one bit.

"Don't move, this is really comfortable for me, too."

He was awake, and had grabbed me on purpose. In his boxers, on his bed, half naked, with me in a wife beater and pajama shorts. The blush was back, and this time I did not fight it. This time, there was a reason to blush, and I was about to scream as well as blushing.

"You're awake! You asshole!" I yelled under my breath. I tried to get up, but he pulled me back down.

His eyes were still closed, and he spoke calmly. "You should stay. It's not like I'm assaulting you, and we've already made out before. Besides, you're my soulmate." He grinned, finally opening his eyes and looking at me. We were facing each other, noses almost touching.

"We shouldn't be doing this," I said, starting to get lost in his pupil-less black eyes.

"We're just cuddling, there's no harm in that. You're so uptight, just let yourself have some relaxation," he stared back, and slowly but surely kissed me. It was quick and sweet like the brush of a feather duster. It was something I had heldhim back from for weeks. He stared into my eyes for my reaction, and internally sighing, I returned the favor with no further word.

"Now see, that wasn't that bad, was it?" He asked me quietly. "After weeks of you abstaining, it's all right for little kisses."

"We're not together, though, and I wanted it to be on our own terms," I started to get louder.

He was still staring into my eyes. "It is on our own terms. This isn't because of me imprinting, it's because I truly like you for you. Obviously, if you haven't moved away from me yet, you feel the same."

He leaned in to kiss me again, but I rolled away from him, grinning. "Don't take it personally, but you're in your boxers, and we need to get out of this house. Would you like to go out to lunch with me, Jacob Black? I came to go out, not sit in the house all day."

"Are you asking _me_ on a date, Bianca Uley?" He asked, feigning shock.

I dug through his drawer on the far side of the room until I found suitable clothes. "Yes I am, now get dressed."

"But you're still in pajamas—"

"At least mine cover my dignity," I quipped jokingly. "And Jacob?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't question me."


	9. Binky: Part Two

_**Thanks for reviewing: **XOXMaximumcullenXOX, Errendelle, and Debbie Hicks._

**I feel like there is literally no plot to this story, I****'m just kind of writing. I've gotten attached to this tory and everything and want it to go far, but I have no idea what people think of it. To be honest, I have a lot of opinions about this story that are good and bad. Please let me know what you think by leaving a review. I'm not trying to be thirsty, but it would put me at ease.  
****On a side note, I found someone who looks as I would imagine Bianca does. Her name is Ashley Madekwe, and I feel like Bianca would look a lot like her, only younger.  
****Enjoy!**

**I do not own Twilight.**

* * *

"I'm going to warn you now that I'm a sloppy eater."

"That makes two of us."

I laughed because I _knew _Jacob was a sloppy eater, my disgusting chewing and chomping hardly rivaling his. It was funny how fate worked, putting someone who could deal with my worst flaws on this earth in the same place as me. I did not get how anyone could stand me. Hell, _I _couldn't even stand me; I was actually very annoying in my opinion.

"I've experienced worse. My brother is _much _messier than you, but it definitely runs in the family. I'm trying to be as polite as I can at the moment, and I'm not sure it is working," I spoke, taking a bite of the pineapple and ham pizza I had ordered. I groaned internally; pizza was one of my favorite foods. My mother was an advocate for healthy eating and living, so I was not able to eat any junk back home. I took every chance I could to fill myself with candies, cakes, pizzas, and fast food over here.

"I've always took you as a person who wouldn't eat junk," he said, his statement more on an inquiry for further conversation.

"You've seen me practically swallow a burger, Jacob," I said, scoffing at him. "I'm pretty sure I've made it a hobby. Ask Sam, his fridge is practically empty. Thank goodness Emily shops every couple of days."

He looked at me with a genuine interest, his face blurred from the steam rising from his cup of coffee. There was not one person I could think of who had ever looked that immersed in what I had to say. It gave me a weird feeling in my stomach and heart, but it made me feel cheerful in an odd kind of way. I had no idea what the feeling was. I imagined that feeling looked something like a small, tan rubber band that tightened around my heart when Jacob managed to flatter me in the slightest.

"Yeah. I don't know what we would do without her," he said thoughtfully, talking a bite of pizza after a short pause. I nodded in appreciation, taking a bite of my food as well. He was thinking; it was not hard to see the gears turning in his head as he sat silently between conversations.

"Hey, I need to ask you something," he continued.

"If I want a burger?"

He stared at me, clearly puzzled.

"What? I assumed since we were talking about burgers—"

"No," he snickered, still looking at me as if I were the most ridiculous human being he had ever met. "I want to ask you about that day with Renesmee. What did she say?"

"Didn't I tell you not to question me?" I replied jokingly, but not really jokingly as I pulling my sweatshirt tighter around me.

I looked at those eyes, that intent, and once again my protective walls started to cave in. "Do I _have_ to tell you?" I asked tentatively.

He looked at me for a second, and then nodded slowly. "Sam asked me to ask you about the exchange to make sure 'nothing happened'."

I was trying to not let myself completely melt away, but I felt it happening. The concern in his voice was something I had never heard from anybody, not even my mother or father. My father did not care, unsurprisingly to everybody except me. And my mothers concern was more of a warning; one that said '_don't you **dare** make me look bad, Bianca Alison_.' I would suspect he did it on purpose to get me to spill, but his emotions were clearly autonomous. I assumed I did the same thing when I looked at him and spoke to him; his reactions were just not as strong.

So I sucked it up and contained myself, changing the subject. "You and Renesmee had a thing. What was that about?"

He froze, his mouth closing a second before he spoke. I realized quickly that I had hit him in a weak spot; it was something he would probably not want to talk about. I had answered his question, though, just not in the way he had thought. He looked down at what I assumed were his knees as I propped my head on two hands. I stared across the table with ironic intent, trying not to laugh at his shocked expression. It was not because I found it hilarious, but because I had caught him off guard. It was _not _easy to do, and now I was _not _the one being pressured.

I waited for him to respond with an unsightly mix between a triumphant stare and a scowl.

"We just had a brief thing," was what he settled on as he scratched his head. "But Bianca—"

"She seemed jealous," I interrupted.

"Well, Bianca, human beings tend to get jealous when they see someone they used to be with coddling another person," he explained sarcastically. I took notice of his hand slowly inching towards mine. My hand almost involuntarily moved away, but I stopped it. I loved being touched, but I was _not _used to this kind of affection. I had never gotten it from my mother, just Sam. And it most definitely did _not _make my heart race like this did.

In that moment, the mood changed from tense to cutesy once again. It was like a romantic movie, sickly sweet, but nice-feeling in the moment. It was funny how somebody like me hated the romance genre, but I may as well have been in one. The movie would surely be foolish and _extremely _bad, but people would watch it anyway, simply because Jacob was there; not because of me. I was just a side-character in the main plot, one that added to Jacob's assets and created troubles in his life, even though he did the same to me.

"You're coddling me?" I asked with a small smirk. His hand was warm in mine, and the child inside me was eager to squeeze his hand to see if he would squeeze back like in the cheesy movies my mother used to watch.

"Well who else would I bring out, buy pizza, and let irritate me?" He asked.

"Renesmee," I quipped.

Jacob looked exasperated. "You try your damn hardest to make things difficult, don't you?"

I shrugged in response. "Pretty much."

The waiter came and set the bill on the table precariously. She must have been my age, maybe a little older, with honey hair and emerald eyes. She flashed a blindingly white smile at Jacob, completely ignoring me. The weird feeling in my heart came back; it was the bad-feeling one.

"Darling, let's get out of here," Jacob said, ignoring the waitress. He was upsetting her on purpose, which made my heart start to beat fast again. In a good way this time, not like rotten feeling jealousy gave me. I slid a hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing and placed my other hand in his outstretched one.

He set down a couple of bills and told her to keep the change, to which she responded with a priceless offended expression. He then pulled me out of the restaurant in a hurry, as we had pissed off the waitress who was stomping into the backroom. And what was the best thing that I had experienced that day?

A simple kiss at the end of that date, with sweaty hands interlocked and rain pouring overhead.

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**Love it? Hate it? Let me know.**


	10. Hall Pass

**Sorry about the short chapter and the long wait! I****'ve been either sick or busy with sports and homework, but there's really no between. I think I'll be back to my weekly update schedule. If not, I'll be updating abut every two to three weeks at the least. Anyways, I just wanted to upload something before I got sidetracked by the new Walking Dead episode tonight ;)**

**Thank you to lytebrytehybrid88 and Rain girl 19 for reviewing the last chapter!**

**I do not own Twilight. I only own any characters not originally in Twilight, and my original personalities.**

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School.

School,

School,

School.

It was quite an odd word, if you really thought about it. The more times you said it, the more it started to sound like _cool, _which it most definitely was not, or just plain old started to sound like a nonexistent word. It was possibly because every word started to sound fictitious if you repeated it enough times, but I had come to the conclusion it was just because it was the word _school._

I had walked down the halls of Forks High with my hands stuck sloppily in the pockets of my blue jeans when I saw her. Skipping the length of the hall daintily, she was a piece of precious porcelain set carefully among stones. Her ponytail a bronze, lustrous half-crescent down the bare back showing through her shirt. If I had been at my old school, she would have been called a slut, or maybe she would have been popular.

"Bianca!" Her step quickened to meet me where I stood in the hall. In truth, I had looked like a garbage can next to her. That was probably why _everyone _had looked back at us as they moseyed to their next class. I could practically _see _what they thought: _why is **she **talking to _**_her?_**

I also was not in the mood to talk to the girl, agonizingly enough. I had figured that she went to the school once or twice, but never really thought about the possibility of _actually _facing her, or what I would say. On the other hand, I had also thought that she would be a complete bitch to me, but I was not going to complain about her being nice. I took what I got, and did not get upset.

"Nessie," I said enthusiastically. "Hey."

She stopped in front of me so fast I hardly saw her move to steady herself. I was shocked for a moment, and look at her just so, but then I realize she is a vampire. If there was anything I remembered from my late-night searches on vampires and werewolves, it was that they were apparently unnaturally graceful.

"Hey, how are you doing?" She asked innocently. I could not tell if it was malicious or simply innocent; her face was a mask of feigned innocence.

"—How are things with Jacob?"

_That _had been the key question I was searching her face for. Her bell-filled sweet, innocently envious chirp penetrated my ears like honey and vinegar. She was not simply asking a question, but inquiring about whether her advice had wrecked my relationship, or whatever we were considered. It was shown through her chocolate-filled eyes as she stared at me questioningly.

The thing Nessie had not realized was that two could play the game of feigning innocence, though.

"Great! We went on a date, actually," I said with a forced smile.

"Oh that's great!" Renesmee forced a smile, just as I had. "Why did you choose to transfer here, though? I'm just asking."

I had not really thought about why I wanted to come to Forks High instead of La Push High. It was mostly a scenery change, and maybe partly because I wanted to be in town. It may have even been that nobody knew me or _of _me here. I truthfully had not known _why _I had wanted to come here, but I was adamant in insisting I go to this school instead of the one on the reservation. It was a simple choice, but yet one that I had not expected to land me here and now in my situation. What had I expected, though?

I swallowed a sarcastic quip, biting my tongue in hopes that it wouldn't slip. "I wanted a change in scenery."

Her coral lips rose a bit, hardly enough for amusement, but just enough for pleasantries. They were a luxury that were hardly displayed anymore, especially among girls. I let a smile grace my lips. They rose just enough to be considered polite, but definitely not high enough to be considered genuine. I liked it that way; it made it seem like I didn't care that this beautiful girl was standing in front of me, not trying to swallow her every envy and thought and word as I was. It made me seem innocent, nice enough to talk to this girl with no anger, no confusion that I was pushing to the back of my mind in handfuls.

The truth laid in that mutual smile we shared. The one thing defined our relationship, and the faux words and actions we exchanged by the dozens.

"Would you like to come over my house tonight?" I heard suddenly. I looked back and forth, as if someone might come out of the shadows and reply to Nessie's question, but nobody came.

I paused as she looked at me expectantly. I didn't know much about vampires, but I knew for a fact they killed humans. Especially annoying, boyfriend-stealing, little humans like me. The kinds of humans that a regular girl would want to beat up in real life, someone like Nessie could kill. And I was almost _sure _I was one of those girls.

It was rude to say no to a polite offer. I had been taught that from the time I could talk; it was one of the many idiotic lessons my mother had instilled in me every single day of my life. I would have been an imbecile to even imagine saying yes to Nessie's offer, and idiots tended to die. I had seen enough horror movies to know that making the risky decision usually resulted in death. I had probably been thinking too much about the situation at the time, but wasn't that better than giving it no thought at all? I thought so.

I stumbled over my words and all that came from my mouth was a quite attractive-sounding "_Y'now" _I regained myself, straightened my posture and stared straight into her chocolatey eyes—

"I have to do something with Jacob tonight."

_Bingo._

Her face changed, that smile that said so much changing into a potent sneer. I had not meant to say anything to her— it had been an accident. I wished I could have paused the situation and taken his name back, but at the same time, a fire in soul pounded with ferocity. I was the cause of this powerful, beautiful girl's envy. I was the _target _of it, and for some reason, that made me proud.

"Here's a pass," she ground out, slamming a blue slip into my flexing palm.

My heart dropped and I froze in place as Nessie walked away from me, face redder than I had ever seen.

_Why would she keep me from getting a detention if she really hated me that much?_


	11. Mushy-Gushy

**Thank you to _Jessie the twilight girl _for her lovely reviews!**

**I do not own Twilight.**

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_Biology._

_History._

_English._

_Study._

_Lunch._

_Math._

I recited the schedule over and over in my head, carrying around the neatly written slip of paper I looted from the office to help me remember. I got to class late that morning and made up the excuse that I didn't know where to go. The blatant lie slipped through my lips like silken hair through soft hands, and the teacher looked at me skeptically. She smiled despite that, her chapped lips forming a little crescent beneath her long nose.

I slid into my seat easily and locked my hands together. She was reciting a clearly plagiarized lecture about medieval sicknesses that I took no interest in; I had read and watched enough medieval dramas to lecture three classes uniquely. There was the sweating sickness, syphilis, the black death . . .

My pen tip sat precariously on the edges of my fuzzy teeth. I ran my tongue over them and cringed. I had forgotten to brush them this morning and they felt dirty and cottony, like someone had glued little fibers all over my incisors. I surely would have brushed them if I hadn't been late getting out of bed by at least an hour. It was just one of those days where I would have to smile with my mouth closed— or not smile at all.

The professor walked towards me slowly, her hand hovering in the air as if she was on a runway. She set her open palm on my desk once she got to it and pursed her lips in thought. I let a small smile tug at the edge of my lips— just enough to acknowledge her, but not enough for her to ignore me, apparently.

"Miss Uley, since you seem ever so _interested _in this topic, would you care to tell us a bit about The Dancing Plague and what it entails?"

I moved my pen from my teeth and set it down on the desk.

"It started in Strasbourg with one woman named Frau Troffea. Within four days, more people joined her. By the end of the week, the number was close to four hundred. People started dropping like flies because of all of the dancing they were doing. Physicians supposed dancing was the cure. Some places even hired musicians and built stages to make the sick keep dancing," I recited. It sounded like I had been expecting the question; the teacher stared at me as like I was an alien. I gave her a small smile and placed the pen tip back in its spot resting against my teeth.

"I'm listening, I promise."

"I'm sure you are, but—"

"Mrs. Strauss, I'm listening."

_Biology._

_History._

_English._

_Study._

_Lunch._

_Math._

She sighed and moved on to the next vulnerable student. She was moving towards the bum of the class, a kid I _knew _would not be able to answer any question she asked him. That was probably her goal, though. To make a fool of some other kid to redeem herself after the lesson I had just given her, with her chapped lips puckered and watery eyes soft and vulnerable. She was a desperate case; one that would do anything to be superior to anyone she found inferior.

It reminded me of Nessie and I, and once again my mind wandered to the hall pass.

And I sighed.

Because _everything _came back to the stupid girl with the coppery ringlets.

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"You look happy."

I practically bang my head on the beam above me.

"Don't _ever _do that again. Why are you in my house anyway?"

Rachel shrugged, grinning at me. "You guys don't lock the door."

I turned slightly to glare at Rachel, but rolled my eyes instead and busied myself with the task of kicking my shoes off and settling my bag onto the couch. She was staring at me from behind, though. I felt her eyes burning holes through my cardigan-clad back and creating little singe marks on my subconscious. She had a way with clawing out information from people that I just couldn't place. She was like a therapist, but better. She was Rachel. Not a best friend or even an encourager . . . just Rachel. And "Just Rachel" could coax feelings out from a rock.

"I had a complicated day at school."

Rachel nodded slowly, mouth closed, eyes searching for more information. I knew that even though she had not been in a school for a dogs age, she would understand. School was school, drama was drama, and days were days. Everyone had days. Maybe they weren't as strange of days, but they were comparably stressful.

"The youngest Cullen girl goes to my school."

"Renesmee?"

I nodded.

"I hate her."

I looked at her, not shocked at all. "Is it because she dated Jacob?"

Rachel huffed. "That's only half of it, she used to make us _all _want to jump off of cliffs. And not in the fun way, in the _'I'm going to die' _way."

"Why?" I asked tentatively.

Rachel rubbed her forehead. "Look, she was just annoying. Renesmee can't keep her hands to herself and no less her feelings."

"She seems to keep finding me everywhere I go," I confessed.

"Even after the whole scaring you half to death with 'legends' thing?"

"Yup," I replied. "She came to me earlier and asked about Jacob, so I gave her a fake act. Also, she invited me over to her house. I declined quite rudely, actually. I think I might have a kill order set on me now, actually."

I smiled. Rachel frowned.

"That's not funny—"

_Ring._

I pushed myself up and off of the couch, propelling my body towards the door. Rachel peeked around the corner towards me, but I ignored her. I was sure to get the rest of her lecture about things that could potentially kill me if I even spared a glance in her direction.

_Ring._

_Ring._

"I'm coming!" I yelled at nobody in particular. I peeked through the peephole, expecting Emily or Sam to be on the other side of the door, but instead find someone tall and tanned looking at me from the other side. They looked around, as if expecting someone to let them in any second. I briefly fiddle with the lock on the door, paying attention more to the person than to the task at hand.

I realized it was a stupid decision when I opened the door without making sure I wasn't in danger. The person turned around, tan back a contrast against the light and leafy greenery surrounding the house. My heart beat fast, like a hummingbird's wings in flight.

"Dammit, Paul," I breathed out, partly in relief, partly in annoyance, at the grinning man in front of me.

"Hey Uley, is Rachel here?"

"Yes, actually. She broke into my house and is currently harassing me."

"It's not your house, though."

"For now it is," I replied jokingly. "And I don't like to get scared half to death every time I walk into my house."

"Paul!" I heard shrilly from behind me. I moved to the side. I had been trampled one too many times to make the mistake of standing in front of the girls' imprints again.

I watched them hug and pepper kisses, but turned my head away within a few seconds and walked back into the kitchen. Other people's relationships made my stomach churn in disgust. It was too mushy-gushy, lovey-dovey for my taste. But that's the thing with love, isn't it? It's meant to be mushy-gushy lovey-dovey.

I started making a sandwich, but it wasn't for me. It was for Jacob when he came over after pack duty. Because I'm not into that mushy-gushy lovey-dovey thing called love. I'm into that mushy-gushy lovey-dovey thing called Jacob. And nobody could ruin that, not even the stupidly copper-headed little vampire that kept reappearing in my head.

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**QOTD: Where are you from? I'm from the Eastern United States :)**


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